On The Slopes
by Shannon A. Bernstein
Summary: Roderich is looking forward to his college ski trip. That is, until he gets stuck rooming with Gilbert, the boy he can't stand. After three days together on the slopes, will they still hate each other? Threeshot. Rated M for future smut.
1. Chapter 1

_**- Day 1 -**_

"You go without me. Give my spot to someone else."

As Roderich Edelstein laboriously towed his ski gear and suitcase down the street, his friend Vash Zwingli's words echoed in his mind. He and Vash had been looking forward to the university ski club's ski trip for almost two months. Just two short weeks away from their departure, Vash had lost his chance at skiing on the big, beautiful slopes of Stowe Mountain Resort in Vermont. He had been breaking in the new pair of ski boots he'd received for Christmas at the small local resort that paled in comparison to what awaited them at Stowe, only to crash-land, fall, and break his leg in the process. Roderich had visited him in the hospital. He had watched the Swiss boy's face contort with pain as he told Roderich to go on the ski trip without him – to enjoy himself for once.

When Roderich had told the ski club officers that Vash wouldn't be coming on the trip, they had simply blinked at him and said, "We gotta let someone else have that spot. Oh, and we're gonna have to pair you with a new roommate. You cool with that?" The Austrian had murmured a "yes" and hoped he wouldn't be paired up with someone annoying. He still had no idea who his new roommate would be. Well…Roderich had one guess, but he hoped to God that he was wrong.

After having struggled for nearly fifteen minutes to haul an unwieldy pair of skis and a hulking suitcase down the street from his dorm room, Roderich finally reached the coach bus. He was reluctant to let the club officers take his precious skis and shove them carelessly in the storage area at the bottom of the bus. He shuffled onto the bus, found a seat, let his backpack slide off his shoulders, and settled in to wait for the bus's departure. Roderich had managed to find a moment of peace in which he allowed his eyelids to slide shut and his mind to wander until a loud and unmistakable voice interrupted him:

"Where should we sit, guys? Here? Or here? Or…you have _got _to be kidding me. Specs, you on this trip too?"

Now that Gilbert Beilschmidt had addressed Roderich, as it was inevitable that he'd do at some point, the Austrian could no longer ignore the German boy. His eyes snapped open as he studied the albino with the slightly disheveled silvery hair. "It would appear that way," he said coolly, trying not to let his patience wear thin – _yet._ The trip was three days long. He'd have plenty of time to be annoyed at Gilbert on Saturday and Sunday. Today it was Friday, and he just wanted to relax. "Oh, and how many times must I tell you not to call me Specs? I do have a proper name, you know."

"Oh, stop being such a fucking priss," Gilbert said. Much to Roderich's chagrin, he slid into the seat directly behind the Austrian. Francis sat next to Gilbert, and Antonio sat across the aisle from the two. It seemed that Roderich never saw Gilbert without the French boy and the Spaniard in tow. The three usually arrived at ski club meetings and socials together, and no one could miss their entrance, because they were usually rather loud. The club officers and the other club members seemed to love them. Roderich, on the other hand…well, Francis and Antonio were normal enough if you got them alone. But as a group, they were simply irritating.

"Are you really going to sit there?" Roderich asked Gilbert. "You've made it very clear to me on several occasions that you hate me. So why are you…"

"Itineraries and room assignments, guys!" A nonchalant ski club officer with tanned skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, and glasses announced as he passed out little packets of papers.

Roderich wasted no time in glancing at his room assignment. Of course. _Of course._ They had stuck him in the room with Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio. It made sense, though. They had a group of three, but each hotel room held four people, so the club needed a single member to fill the extra space. "_Mein Gott,_" Roderich muttered as he rolled his eyes. The three friends exchanged glances. The Austrian could tell they were all thinking the same thing he was. _Just make the best of this, Roderich,_ he commanded himself. _You're here to ski, not to make friends with these weirdoes. _After all, they'd be spending most of their time on the slopes, not in the hotel room. Stowe Mountain Resort was so huge that Roderich could probably avoid Gilbert for most of the day if he wanted to. He cleared his throat. "As I was _saying, _if you hate me so much, why are you sitting right next to me?"

Gilbert laughed and shoved Roderich playfully in the shoulder. "Oh, silly Roddy, I'm sitting _behind _you, not next to you!" He paused to arch one pale eyebrow, crimson eyes wide and flashing mischievously. "Besides, who said I hate you? What if I actually like you?"

Roderich, Antonio, and Francis gasped collectively. The Austrian could feel his cheeks getting hot. Gilbert couldn't be serious, could he? "I…you…you _do?_ What-I mean, seriously?" he sputtered, tripping over his own words.

With another laugh, Gilbert shot back, "Oh, God no! Don't get your hopes up, Roddy. 'Cause, ya know, who wouldn't want the awesome me to like them? I don't _like _you, I like _bothering _you." He flailed his arms in Roderich's direction. "Bothah, bothah, bothah," he said in an exaggerated fake British accent.

"It's going to be a long three days, isn't it?" Roderich said dryly. He settled back into his seat and fished inside his backpack for his iPod. He slipped the earbuds into his ears and selected his classical music playlist. The sounds of Debussy's _Clair de Lune_ filled his ears, and he instantly felt himself relax. It was a piece he knew well, and he found himself moving his fingers in time with the music as if he were playing the piano. Eyelids slid closed as the world around Roderich fell away. Even the sounds of Gilbert and Francis chattering behind him, and the roar of the engine as the bus pulled out of the parking lot, ceased to exist as the Austrian tuned in completely to the music.

Only half an hour had slipped away in near silence – if you could call the way Gilbert, Francis and Antonio chattered constantly "near silence" – before Roderich was interrupted again. "Hey, dude, ya want one?"

Roderich looked up to find that the club officer from before was standing beside his seat, clutching a huge crate filled with bottles of beer. The Austrian arched one chocolate-brown eyebrow in the officer's direction and glared at him. "No thank you," he said. "I'm here to _ski_, not to get shitfaced."

The boy turned to Gilbert. "Hey, what's this prude's name?" He jerked his thumb at Roderich, who flushed and tried to control his urge to smack the club officer.

Gilbert chuckled as he responded, "Oh, Alfred, that's Roderich. You'll get used to that one. He's always like that." _Oh, great,_ Roderich thought. _Gilbert and the ski club officer are ganging up on me. Is it too late to get my money back for this trip?_

"You three bros want beers?" Alfred said. Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert all nodded and accepted, with grins that implied they were more than willing to take the offered alcohol. Alfred moved to continue down the aisle to offer beer to other club members. But before he left, he shot Roderich a playful, scolding glance and shook his head a little.

"God, why do you have to be such a priss, Priss?" Gilbert said with a laugh as he waved the bottle briefly in Roderich's face. The Austrian reached out and shoved the bottle away, which slipped in Gilbert's grip. Beer sloshed out over the top. Yelping in surprise, Gilbert jumped back, but not in time to avoid spilling alcohol all over his pants. "Hey! Look what you did!" he scoffed as he stood to examine the damage.

"Oh…Gilbert…_scheisse,_ I really am sorry," Roderich mumbled. "I didn't mean to do that."

"_Sure_ you didn't," Gilbert said, rolling those crimson eyes of his.

"No, I really didn't!" Roderich shot back. "Look, I know we're not exactly on the best of terms, but why would I spill beer on you on purpose? I'm not that much of an asshole!"

Gilbert froze in motion as his eyes widened in surprise. "Oooh, Roddy cursed!" he said mockingly, and then wagged a finger at the Austrian.

Roderich folded his arms across his chest. "I am just as capable of cursing as you are, Gilbert," he said, aiming an intense stare at the silver-haired boy, who simply laughed again.

"Actually, that's true," Antonio said out of nowhere with a little chuckle. Francis and Gilbert looked at him with questioning expressions on their face. "What, you two don't know that?" Roderich narrowed his purple eyes dangerously at the Spaniard. _You'd better not say another word,_ he willed Antonio silently. Thankfully, he said nothing else.

"Well, if you're so sorry, then what are you going to do about it?" Gilbert demanded, ignoring Antonio's comment, his attention drawn easily back to Roderich as though he were a puppy dog who got distracted by every little noise and movement occurring around him. "As far as I see it, my pants are gonna be soaked in beer this whole bus ride, and there's nothing you can do to take _that _back. Unless you're some kind of freaking pants-fairy or something who can magically produce pants out of thin air."

For a moment, all Roderich could think to do was huff in frustration at Gilbert and hope that the German wouldn't keep him from squeezing in at least a few hours of sleep tonight before they woke early to head to the slopes the next morning. But then it dawned upon him: "Gilbert…actually, I do have an extra pair of jeans in my backpack," he said. "They'll probably fit you." Gilbert looked stunned for a moment, blinking steadily at Roderich as a little trace of pink crept into his pale cheeks. "Well, do you want them or not?"

"S-sure," Gilbert managed to say. Roderich dug in his backpack, found them, pulled them out, and held them out to the German boy. Gilbert snatched them out of Roderich's hands and retreated with an indignant look to the restroom at the back of the coach bus. While he was gone, Francis and Antonio cast amused stares in the Austrian's direction. The French boy snickered under his breath. Antonio bit his lip in an attempt to hold back his laughter. Roderich glared at the two until Gilbert returned, wearing the Austrian's jeans. Since Roderich was an inch or two shorter, they were a tad short on the albino, but they looked as though they fit him through the hips. Francis and Antonio raised their eyebrows in mocking approval.

"Not bad," the Spaniard offered.

"Oh, shut it, both of you," Gilbert muttered.

"_I_ didn't say anything," Francis added.

"It was a pre-emptive 'shut it' for you, Francis," Gilbert said. He settled back into his seat next to the blonde, shooting him a warning glance as he did.

The three friends soon quieted, though, and sipped casually at their bottles of beer. The rest of the trip continued in peace. Roderich once again tuned out to the sounds of classical music. Eventually, the sun sank in the sky until the last traces of light had vanished altogether. Roderich fell asleep in spite of the incessant conversations occurring around him. He had stayed up late the previous evening studying for a difficult music theory exam, which he had taken in the morning before leaving for the ski trip.

Roderich awakened to a nudge on the shoulder. "Roddy," he heard Gilbert say. "We're here. We're at the hotel."

In an automatic reflex, the sleepy Austrian smacked the hand away. "Go away, Gilbert," he muttered.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Gilbert teased. Reluctantly, Roderich opened his eyes to see the lights of the hotel glowing outside. The building was nestled in a layer of fresh snow as more flakes swirled from the clouds, standing out against the dark sky as they fell to the earth. Roderich smiled as he stood, gathered his belongings, and exited the bus. Tomorrow would be the perfect day for skiing, especially with some fresh powder on the ground. Not even Gilbert Beilschmidt could ruin his mood.

Once he and the other three settled in their room, Gilbert flung himself onto one of the hotel beds and aimed sparkling crimson eyes at Roderich. "_Ach, Mein Gott, _no," the Austrian said. "I am not sharing a bed with you." He then turned to Francis and Antonio. "Please, do _not_ make me get in the same bed with that idiot."

"Ew, who said I'd _want_ to share a bed with you?" Gilbert shot back.

Francis held up his hands defensively. "Okay, kids, stop fighting!" he said. "Roderich, you can share a bed with me." Roderich nodded, pleased with that solution. "_Because I wouldn't make you sleep with Antonio either,_" the Frenchman added in a low voice that the Austrian hoped the other two couldn't hear. Even if they had heard, it was probably nothing they didn't already know about. It was common knowledge within the ski club that at one of the club's socials, Antonio and Roderich had left together, drunk and chuckling. They had gone back to Antonio's apartment and spent the night having sex. What the club's members _didn't_ know was that he and Antonio had gone on a few dates afterward. Antonio was nice, and didn't seem to be nearly as obnoxious as Gilbert or Francis, but Roderich had backed away from the fledgling relationship, insisting that he was much too busy to have a boyfriend. Indeed, majoring in piano performance was rather time-consuming, and the Austrian spent much of his free time in the practice room. But the real reason, perhaps, was that he was afraid to get too close to someone again after having dated Elizaveta. He thought what he shared with the Hungarian girl had been special – until she'd left him, for a _girl_ from Belgium, of all people.

"All right," Roderich said to Francis at last, forcing himself to focus again. "But you had better not try anything," he warned. Francis was notorious for being a flirt. He'd slept with several of the girls, and even one or two of the guys, in the ski club.

"I'll keep my hands to myself!" Francis promised as he pressed his palms to his chest. "See?"

Roderich rolled his eyes at the three friends. _I cannot wait to ski tomorrow and get away from them,_ he thought. _Especially that Gilbert Beilschmidt. _

* * *

**So originally, this was going to be a oneshot, but when I realized it would probably end up being about 20 pages long, I decided to turn it into a three-shot.**

**Also, I'm a skier, and I did take a trip with my college ski club last year, so this is somewhat based on personal experience. (At least the skiing parts of it.)**

**Did anyone catch that slight Potter Puppet Pals reference in there?**

**As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are love :)**

**Oh yeah, I don't own Hetalia.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**- Day 2 -**_

It was early, too early.

The alarm sounded at 6:30 a.m. the next morning. The coach bus would depart for the ski resort at 8, which gave them plenty of time, but Roderich was in no mood to fight with the other three over showers, so he simply woke up earlier than they did. When he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his compression shirt and ski pants, he found that Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio had not moved an inch from their beds. Why was he not surprised? He had half a mind to wake the others, but decided that they were adults who should be responsible for waking themselves up. He continued to gather his belongings and prepare himself for a day of skiing. Still, the other three did not stir. He was just about to head out the door to get breakfast downstairs when Francis stood, walked over to the bed where Gilbert and Antonio slept, clapped his hands, and announced, "_Bonne matin, mes amis!_ Get up!"

After eating breakfast and clambering back onto the coach buses with all their ski gear, everyone finally arrived at Stowe Mountain Resort. They piled out of the buses, pulled on ski boots, stepped into their skis, yanked goggles down over their eyes, and prepared for a day on the mountain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred strapping his feet into the bindings of a snowboard. The university did in fact have a snowboard club – why didn't Alfred join it instead? Roderich and many of his skiing friends found snowboarders to be annoying. They were always spraying snow in other's faces, doing reckless tricks, scooting along with one foot out of the bindings, and sitting down in the middle of the ski slopes…

An almost blindingly bright swirl of orange and red silenced Roderich's thoughts. Standing before him was a cheerful and grinning Gilbert, dressed in some of the most obnoxiously colorful ski gear the Austrian had ever seen. He wore an orange, red, and white checkered jacket that brought out the ruby hue of his eyes, which had barely been dimmed by the pale tint of his ski goggles. His matching white pants were almost as baggy as the kind one typically saw snowboarders wearing on the half-pipe. His pale gray skis were decorated with a yellow, orange, and red flame design. Only his slouchy hat and his ski poles and boots were of a conservative charcoal gray color. Roderich had to admit that it was a pretty cool setup. His appeared rather dull and conservative by comparison. "That…that's a nice setup, Gilbert," he said.

"Thanks!" Gilbert said, tossing his head back a little "It's just as awesome as me!" The albino's eyes moved to survey Roderich's ski gear. "Oh, that's a quality pair of skis you got there," he remarked, humming a little in approval.

"Oh, ah…thank you," Roderich said, surprised that Gilbert had noticed.

By this point, most of the club members were heading toward the ski lifts. "This way, guys!" Gilbert called to Francis and Antonio as he waved the two toward the mountain. They headed straight for the gondola at the center of the mountain, which would lead them to several black-diamond slopes. Roderich frowned and made a face in the general direction of the three as they disappeared into the distance. Apparently, they were going to take a reckless risk and start off on some of the resort's most challenging runs without first warming up on easier trails. _Have fun getting yourselves hurt,_ Roderich thought to himself as he headed for the nearby ski lift, which should take him to some easier green and blue trails to start off with. Though Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio would probably be fine skiing on the difficult trails without a warm-up, it was a risk the Austrian was simply unwilling to take.

Roderich boarded the ski lift and let it carry him to the top of the mountain. The world beneath him shrank as an icy breeze ruffled his hair and stung the exposed skin on his face. When he reached the top and made his way down a reasonable-looking slope, he finally found a moment of peace. He was away from the responsibilities of school, from professors and exams. He was away from the practice room and from the piano – which was a rare, yet necessary, occurrence. And he was away from that obnoxious Gilbert Beilschmidt, at least for a few hours before the club would meet for lunch. With fresh powder gliding seamlessly beneath his skis, the familiar motion of bending around his ski poles, the sky mostly clear above him, and the rush of the wind whistling past his ears, Roderich could not have asked for a better day on the slopes.

Noon came too soon. For a few hours of skiing, it seemed as though time had ceased to exist. It felt as though it was just him alone on the mountain, with no one and nothing else to bother him. But his legs did feel a little tired, and his stomach growled, so lunch was probably just what he needed. Roderich took the gondola at the center of the mountain all the way up to the top, where a restaurant was perched among the challenging black-diamond trails that wound their way around the slope. He took off his skis and set them carefully on the rack just outside of the restaurant. As soon as he made his way inside, he could hear a loud, German-accented voice talking cheerfully from a few yards away. Gilbert. That voice cut through the din of lunchtime chatter at the packed café. Roderich got into line and ordered a sandwich wrap with duck and brie cheese. It sounded decent enough.

Carefully, he carried his tray of food down a few stairs to the table at which Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis sat. Another table nearby was filled with ski club members, but he didn't know any of them that well. He couldn't believe he was going to voluntarily sit with these three – but it would be better than eating alone. "Is it okay if I sit with you?" he said.

"Of course, _mon ami!_" Francis replied cheerfully. "We don't mind…" he paused for a moment and gave the albino a teasing glance, "do we, Gilbert?"

Both of Gilbert's pale eyebrows shot up. "Wha – I –" he said in surprise. Then, he regained his composure. "I mean, I _guess_ the priss can sit with us," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Roderich set his tray down and settled into the open seat. He had no idea what that tiny moment of awkwardness had been about, so he simply decided to ignore it. He bit into his wrap. It was actually really good for ski lodge food. The meat was moist and the cheese had melted just the right amount. "Oh, look, the prissy boy has a prissy lunch," Gilbert commented between spoonfuls of what looked like New England clam chowder in a bread bowl. "It's duck meat, isn't it? _Fancy-schmancy. _And what the fuck kind of cheese is that?"

"It's brie," Roderich said humorlessly, even as Gilbert chuckled.

"Wait, they had sandwiches with brie?" Francis chimed in with an eager look on his face.

"Oh, _Mein Gott,_ Francis. You're not going to take Roderich's side here, are you?" Gilbert said.

"I have to agree with him on this one, Gilbert," the French boy replied. "I _am_ French, after all. I love brie."

Gilbert gave a conciliatory little nod. For the rest of lunch, the conversations they shared were surprisingly…normal. They talked about skiing, professors, exams, and where they might go on spring break. Gilbert, of course, made a few requisite teasing remarks, most of which Roderich decided not to scold him for. He reminded himself that he _was_ here to have fun, and arguing with this incorrigible German wasn't going to get him anywhere.

When they had finished eating, they all stood and prepared to head back to the slopes. Roderich made his way up two of the four stairs before his clunky ski boots slipped on the third step. He tripped and slid backwards, catching himself on the railing before he could fall all the way back down to the bottom step. He straightened himself and glanced over his shoulder. Just as he expected, Gilbert and the rest of his entourage were staring at him. Gilbert laughed – a full-bodied, strange-sounding laugh. "Not so graceful now, are you, Roddy?" he called as the Austrian stepped carefully to the top of the small set of stairs. Ski boots really were a pain to walk in.

"You can't give it a rest for even one minute, can you, Gilbert?" Roderich shot back.

Gilbert just shrugged. "Ah, ski boots," he said with a smirk. "The great equalizer."

After lunch, Roderich again tried to avoid the three friends. Skiing alone was much more relaxing. This time, he ventured onto the more difficult trails. Just as he had expected, the mountain had so many possible trails that it was relatively easy to go for hours without seeing anyone from the ski club. Sometimes he wondered why he had joined that club. He had done so in order to interact with people outside of the music program, but found that the ski club was too unconventional, too loud, and too focused on partying for his taste.

An hour or so had passed since lunch when Roderich saw a flash of orange and red out of the corner of his eye at the top of a mogul run. "Gilbert? Seriously?" he said. Of all the trails he had to choose, he wound up choosing the same one Gilbert had.

"Oh…" Gilbert said in a voice that sounded surprised and hurt at the same time. "I…I lost Francis and Antonio," he said as he stared down at his skis. "The trail we came from branched into two parts. I think they went the other way."

Roderich was surprised to hear the German boy sound hurt. Was it something he had done? He _had_ perhaps seemed as though he'd been a bit annoyed to see Gilbert. "Ah, well, I'm sure we can find them at the bottom of this run," he said, and offered the other boy a smile. Skiing with Gilbert for a whopping ten minutes surely wouldn't kill him.

Gilbert smiled right back. He shoved off with his ski poles and took off toward the moguls. Roderich followed, though he tried to ski a little more slowly than Gilbert. Though conditions on the mountain were fairly good today, there did seem to be a few ice crystals in the snow. If the snow from which the moguls were built had those ice crystals in them, they'd be unforgiving if a skier made a mistake traveling through them. He and Gilbert wound their way through the maze of raised domes of snow. Gilbert was picking up speed in front of him, flying effortlessly through the moguls. "Hey, you want to slow down a little?" Roderich shouted.

"Why?" Gilbert shouted back. He laughed and leaned downward into the mountain. He started to pivot around a particular mogul, but he'd picked up too much speed to make the turn. Instead, he flew over the top of it and through the air. When he landed, his right ski rocked onto its edge as he smashed into a second mogul. He fell onto his side. The ski was ripped off his foot, and it started to drift down the mountain. Gilbert lay motionless on his side, clutching at his ankle, breath coming in ragged gasps. "Ow! Ow! Shit! Ow!" he yelped.

Roderich skidded to a stop, sending a flurry of snow into the air as he did. "Gilbert, are you okay?" he said, his voice laced with concern.

"No, I…Roderich, my ski!"

Gilbert's ski had now slid a good ten feet down the mountain. It would continue sliding if no one caught it, and it would be impossible for Gilbert to reach the bottom of the trail with only one ski. Roderich lunged after the escaping ski and pinned it between his ski poles. Gilbert managed to stand shakily and limp a few feet toward the Austrian before he tripped and fell on his face in the snow. He lifted his face and wiped the snow away form his ski goggles with the back of his gloved hand. "Oh, fuck," he muttered, a look of wounded pride in those crimson eyes.

"Come on, Gilbert, I'll help you up," Roderich said as he bent down and offered an outstretched hand to the albino. Gilbert accepted the hand and used it to haul himself into a standing position. As he put weight on his right foot, he whimpered a little, and his face contorted in pain. "Oh, Gil, are you all right? Are you hurt at all?" Roderich asked, suddenly genuinely worried about the well being of the boy he couldn't stand.

"Oh – ow, my ankle," Gilbert said. "I…it isn't sprained, is it?" Panic suddenly filled Gilbert's voice. "I'm supposed to ski again tomorrow! I don't want to miss out on another day of skiing!"

"We won't know if it's sprained until we get you off this mountain," Roderich said firmly. He lifted one of his skis and used it to hold Gilbert's loose ski in place. "Here. Put this ski back on. I'll help you get to the bottom. Then you should sit down for a while." Gilbert nodded, and with Roderich's help, stepped into the binding and secured his foot back in the ski. The two made their way slowly and carefully down the rest of the trail. From the look on the albino's face, it hurt a lot to put weight on his injured foot. Every subtle movement, every turn and pivot, looked as though it was a struggle for him. Roderich found himself feeling sorry for Gilbert. For reasons he couldn't quite describe, the desire to help the other boy filled him.

When they reached the bottom together, Gilbert instantly stepped out of his skis and placed a hand on Roderich's shoulder to steady himself. Roderich removed his skis as well and carried them in his right hand. He wound his free arm around Gilbert's waist. "Come on, Gil," he said, and helped Gilbert limp down the snow-covered stairs that led to the ski lodge. They set their skis on the rack outside and hobbled together inside the building. Warmth flooded their bodies, banishing the chill of a late January afternoon on the mountain. Gilbert slid into a chair at one of the tables set up inside the lodge, which was mostly abandoned. Almost everyone at the resort was still out skiing. The mountain closed at 4:30 p.m. It was now almost two in the afternoon, so the skiers and snowboarders were out making the most of their last few hours on the slopes for the day. "All right, let's get you out of those ski boots," Roderich said.

Gilbert nodded and said nothing as Roderich bent to undo the buckles that fastened the albino's ski boots. As he pulled the right boot away from Gilbert's foot, the other boy whimpered again and bit his lip to keep from yelping in pain. Even through his thick sock, it was easy to see that the ankle was swollen, though it didn't appear to be twisted too badly. "Gil, it doesn't look that bad," Roderich said as he pulled the albino's other boot off his foot. Gilbert's ruby-hued eyes were aimed at the carpeted floor, which was littered with the scattered remains of the snow that had fallen off the two of them. It seemed as though he was trying to avoid looking straight into Roderich's eyes. "I think we should just stop skiing for the day, go back to the hotel, and rest. You will probably be fine to ski again tomorrow," the Austrian said.

"Okay, that sounds like a good – wait, _we?"_ Crimson eyes stared into purple ones, questions looming in their depths.

For a moment, Roderich had to pause to recall the words he had just spoken. Had he really just offered to go back to the hotel with Gilbert and give up an extra few hours of skiing? Yes, yes he had. But for some reason, he didn't like the thought of leaving the German boy alone. "Yes, we," Roderich replied in a tone of voice that left no room for debate. "The officers said this morning that there's a shuttle that will take us back to the hotel if we wanted to leave early. Come on. Get your stuff."

They both fished for their backpacks on their storage shelves, put on sneakers, collected their skis from outside, and waited for the shuttle in front of the lodge. When it arrived and they shuffled inside the vehicle, they sat in silence, occasionally sneaking glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Part of Roderich wanted to break the silence – to say something, _anything_ – but the other part of him wanted to sort out his thoughts. Why was he being nice to Gilbert? After all, they couldn't stand each other! Right? The Austrian started to wonder if he didn't actually care about Gilbert just a little bit. No, that was impossible! He was just being a generous person. He told himself that he would have done the same if had been any other of the ski club members, though he didn't fully believe it.

When they arrived back at the hotel and made their way into the lobby, Gilbert lost balance as he limped, and grabbed at the back of a nearby couch for support. "Ahh, _Mein Gott_…" he gasped.

"Gil, why don't you just sit down?" Roderich said. "I will go upstairs to the room and get you some painkillers and some ice. It's probably best if you stay off that foot for a while."

"Oh…okay," Gilbert said quietly. Roderich turned and was just about to head for the elevator when Gilbert's voice stopped him in his tracks. "But Roderich, why are you being so nice to me? I thought you didn't like me – I mean, we don't like each other."

That was exactly the question Roderich had struggled to answer himself. "I…well…you're hurt, Gilbert," he said at last. "People deserve to have someone help them when they're hurt. And it's not as though you're a bad person. Annoying, certainly, but not bad at all."

"Okay," Gilbert said as he slumped onto the couch and stretched his injured leg out in front of him. Roderich rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and slipped inside the room they shared. He fished inside his suitcase for the bottle of painkillers he always brought with him. After that, he pulled the plastic liner out of the little provided icebox and wandered down the hall to the ice machine, where he filled the bag with ice. He tied the top and took the steps back down to the lobby. Carefully, he pushed Gilbert's pant leg up and eased the bag of ice onto his injured ankle.

Gilbert winced and sighed shakily.

"Oh, Gil, stop being such a baby," Roderich said, although he wasn't quite sure why. Somehow he felt that it wasn't quite what he meant to say. "I told you it's not that bad."

"Want me to mess up _your_ ankle?" Gilbert shot back. "Then we'll see how _you_ like it."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Roderich said. Then, he paused for a moment before adding, "Gilbert you look cold." Indeed, his cheeks and the tip of his nose still looked pink, even though they'd been inside for about ten minutes now. He seemed to be shivering a little as well.

Gilbert waved off Roderich's comment. "No big deal, Roddy."

Roderich eyed the big containers filled with hot water and coffee sitting on a table a few feet away. A basket filled with packets of tea and hot chocolate mix sat in front of the containers. "I'll be back in a moment," he asserted as he stood and went over to the table. He dumped a packet of hot chocolate mix in each of two Styrofoam cups, filled them with hot water, and stirred until the mixture dissolved. He picked up both cups, carried them back to Gilbert, and sat next to the other boy on the couch. "Here," he said as he offered Gilbert the hot chocolate. It wouldn't be as good as homemade hot chocolate, or the kind one would find in a coffee shop, but it would do. "This will warm you up."

"_Danke,_" Gilbert replied with a sheepish smile. He took the cup and sipped the warm liquid.

"Ah, _bitte,_" Roderich replied. It was easy to forget that Gilbert spoke German, too. If the other boy didn't annoy him so much, they might have become good friends. It was nice to hear one's native language spoken miles away from home. It made his surroundings feel a little more familiar and comforting. For the first time since the beginning of the ski trip, Roderich paused to really study Gilbert for a moment. Gilbert's crimson eyes were half-lidded as he paused with his cup against his lips to let the steam warm the tip of his nose. Roderich thought that in that moment, the other boy looked cute, almost…endearing. The Austrian huffed audibly. _That is, until he goes and says something idiotic, or decides to call me Specs or Priss._ "You'll have to forgive me, Gilbert, but I've forgotten what you're majoring in."

"Economics," Gilbert replied. "You're…piano performance, right?"

Roderich was surprised Gilbert had remembered. At ski club meetings, Roderich had probably casually mentioned his major to Vash and his other friends, but he hadn't expected Gilbert to be listening, much less paying attention. "That's right," he said.

"Do you like it? Is it a fun major? I feel like it would be fun. You know, I used to sort of play the piano too."

"You…you _did_?" Roderich said in surprise, raising both eyebrows at the other boy. Gilbert nodded. Somehow, Gilbert didn't seem the type who'd play a musical instrument, especially not piano. Something loud and obnoxious, like trumpet or electric guitar, maybe – but it baffled the Austrian that Gilbert played an instrument as intricate and soulful as the piano. Roderich was impressed, though he'd never say so out loud. "Yes, I enjoy it, but there are times when it's simply too much," he continued. "There are times when I wish I could just quit and do something easier for a while."

Gilbert nodded again with a look on his face that said, _I understand how you feel._ Again, the albino boy caught Roderich off guard. His usual teasing, obnoxious demeanor had vanished without a trace. Perhaps it was just because he was injured, though, and therefore he didn't feel like his usual self. "Don't give up, Roderich," he said quietly. "I'm sure you're a great pianist. I wouldn't mind hearing you play sometime."

"What – _really_?"

This time, Gilbert seemed to remember that he was supposed to be pestering Roderich constantly. He outfitted himself in a confident smirk as he leaned his head back casually. "_Ja_, just so I can judge how much more awesome a pianist I am," he replied with a laugh.

As he rolled his eyes at Gilbert, Roderich replied, "Of course that's why. If you're so good, why didn't _you_ major in music?"

"And waste my time on some shit like that?"

"The music major is _not_ a waste of…"

"You're right. I'm sorry," Gilbert said, cutting Roderich off before he could finish his sentence. "You're being nice to me, so I shouldn't bug you."

Roderich felt the corners of his mouth curve upward, as if they had a mind of their own. "Well…thank you," he said.

"But I'll bug you again tomorrow," Gilbert added quickly. "Don't you worry."

Normally, Roderich would have shot Gilbert a reprimanding glance and responded with some sort of witty or scolding remark. But instead, he simply chuckled and smiled at the other boy, lost in the hypnotic sparkle of those crimson eyes. Gilbert casually set his hot chocolate down on the table in front of them, and then pressed his palm into the couch between their bodies. Then, he leaned forward toward Roderich. The Austrian froze in place as his heart knocked furiously against his chest. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. Yet he made no move to push Gilbert away; instead, he let the other boy move closer and closer. Gilbert hesitated when his face hovered only an inch or two away from Roderich's. He glanced into purple eyes in a way that was questioning, almost nervous. That glance spoke just as clearly as words could have. It said, _Is this okay? Are you going to let me?_

Roderich knew just how to answer that question. He leaned in and closed the remaining distance between the two of them until their lips met. The way Gilbert pressed back into the kiss was surprisingly gentle. Roderich had expected it to be rough and forceful, like everything the albino did, right down to his skiing. The Austrian clutched his cup of hot chocolate with one hand while the other hand wound around Gilbert's waist. Oh, so _that_ was why Gilbert had set his cup down on the table. Roderich ran his tongue along the other boy's lips, and Gilbert's mouth opened slightly, allowing the Austrian's tongue to wander inside. Their tongues pressed against each other firmly, but still not roughly. Roderich found himself wanting more, needing more, craving more.

He pulled away reluctantly only when the need for oxygen became inescapable. He gazed breathlessly into a pair of wide, almost stunned ruby red eyes and felt as though he had to break the silence between them. "I, ah…" he started to say.

But his words were lost as Gilbert grabbed a handful of Roderich's shirt and kissed him again, much more forcefully this time. His tongue eagerly traced both Roderich's lips, which the Austrian parted willingly. This time, their tongues practically smashed into each other. Gilbert moaned lowly as Roderich trailed a hand across his hip and let it come to rest against something hot and hard. The albino used his hips to push back up against that palm. When they again pulled apart, they stared longingly into each other's eyes as their pulses leapt in their chests. Roderich bent for another firm kiss before he became dimly aware of the sounds of footsteps around him, muffled by the carpeted floor of the lobby. A few passersby gave the two boys long stares as they made their way to their hotel rooms. His cheeks pinked slightly when he recalled that they were in the middle of a hotel lobby, where guests were free to gawk at them. He leaned forward, placed his lips next to Gilbert's ear, and whispered, "Want to go back to the room?"

"Of course," Gilbert replied with a wild glimmer in his eyes.

They both stood and started to walk toward the stairs. Halfway there, they paused, exchanged strained expressions, and changed course toward the elevator. Roderich had realized instantly that it would be uncomfortable to climb four flights of stairs while they were both half-hard. Judging by the look that crossed Gilbert's face, he had thought exactly the same thing. Once they had reached their floor, their steps quickened to a fast walk, and then to a controlled half-jog. Gilbert's steps were halting and uneven as he struggled to keep up on his injured ankle. Roderich shoved the key in the lock with slightly trembling fingers, and then flung the door open.

They flopped down onto Roderich's bed next to each other and kissed roughly while groping each other's growing erections through their jeans. Roderich, who had never been one to waste time on romance in moments like these, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. Gilbert followed suit. The Austrian lingered for a moment, frozen in motion, eyes fixed on Gilbert. God, his skin was as pale and unblemished as fresh snow, the kind that had dusted the mountain resort early this morning before it had been trampled by skis and snowboards. That moment of hesitation fueled Roderich's desire even more. He kissed Gilbert again as his hands wandered up and down that pale chest. The albino rolled his hips greedily against Roderich's, causing their erections to rub together. "Mmh," he mumbled against the Austrian's lips.

Sensing Gilbert's eagerness, one of Roderich's hands slid to the front of the other boy's jeans and nimbly unbuttoned and unzipped them. Gilbert sat up halfway, kicked off his shoes, and wiggled out of his pants. Roderich shed his jeans and reached to pull Gilbert's boxers away from his body. The albino kissed him again, as though he could not be content unless their lips were touching. His boxers were around his knees when his lips started to work up and down Roderich's jawbone, down his neck, and onto his exposed chest. The Austrian struggled to force back a gasp when Gilbert's teeth closed gently around his left nipple. As he licked and kissed and sucked, his hands ran along Roderich's hips, fingers curling around the waistband of his boxers and pulling them slowly down his legs. He kicked off his own boxers as he gave Roderich's right nipple the same treatment. The advancement of Gilbert's kisses continued down Roderich's chest and onto his right hip before he eased the Austrian's thighs apart with his hands and kissed the tip of his erection.

Roderich was powerless to stop a low, soft moan from falling from his lips. Gilbert looked up at the Austrian with a teasing, satisfied smirk as his lips and mouth started to work up and down the length of the other boy's cock. "Wait," Gilbert said as he pulled away and stifled a little giggle.

"Gilbert, what are you doing?" Roderich said. Every inch of his body wanted Gilbert, needed Gilbert, craved Gilbert. He ached to again feel the other boy's hot mouth around his cock. "Don't stop, damn it!"

This time, Gilbert couldn't keep himself from laughing. "Wow, I don't even have to ask you to beg for it, huh, Roddy? I just noticed you might want to take _these_ off," he said as he plucked Roderich's glasses from his face.

"Oh…" Roderich mumbled, wondering why he hadn't taken his glasses off earlier. _Just get on with it_, he thought. But he refused to speak those words out loud. He wouldn't give Gilbert that satisfaction.

Gilbert put Roderich's glasses on. "How do I look?" he said with a smirk.

"Stop fooling around!" Roderich shouted, feeling his sense of self-control shrink as his lust grew. "Put those down and just...oh, aaahh, Gilbert!" Whatever Roderich was going to say was wiped from his mind when Gilbert started to lick up and down the length of his shaft. Roderich shuddered, and by the victorious sparkle that alighted in those striking crimson eyes, Gilbert had felt it. He gave Roderich's member a few more slow licks before he took more of it in his mouth and down his throat. The Austrian's fingers curled helplessly into the sheets as he sighed in overwhelming pleasure. Gilbert shifted his weight slightly, sheets rustling as he did.

Then, all of a sudden, the albino yelped in pain as his right leg gave out under him with Roderich's cock still in his mouth. He gagged, choked, and pulled away, his eyes watering. "Fucking shit!" he spat.

"G-Gilbert, what's going on?" Roderich said, his voice quivering a little.

The albino picked himself up and flushed slightly as he lowered his eyes, avoiding Roderich's gaze. "I…just put weight on my bad ankle, that's all," he said. "I suppose we should just…get on with it now, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose…" Roderich started to reply. "Wait! Maybe I should be on top."

Gilbert's eyes flashed indignantly. "Why is _that_?" he scoffed.

Roderich shot Gilbert a withering look. "Just because of your _ankle_, silly! You don't want to hurt it even more if you manage to put weight on it again, do you?"

"No, I guess not…" Gilbert said with a conciliatory air. He sank down onto the bed next to Roderich, who picked himself up and positioned himself over the albino, placing a knee on either side of his hips. Refusing to waste any more time, he lifted Gilbert's hips up and away from the mattress as the albino's legs wrapped around his waist. Then, at last, he pushed slowly inside. Gilbert let a strangled gasp fall from his lips, but it was lost in Roderich's low groan at the sweet feeling of completion, at the feeling of Gilbert's wonderfully hot and tight body surrounding his cock. Impatient from pent-up desire, Roderich pulled out and thrust back in, a little more roughly than he'd intended. The other boy pushed back with his hips against the Austrian's cock, urging him in deeper and harder.

Roderich was all too eager to comply with the unspoken plea in the motions of Gilbert's body beneath him. He pulled out and thrust in again, this time harder, and reached down in between their bodies to take the other boy's erection in one hand, while the other gripped Gilbert's hip tightly. The movements of his hand kept pace with his thrusts. Slender fingers that were used to touching cool, smooth piano keys ran along Gilbert's hot, pulsing flesh from head to base and then back again, sliding, jerking, touching. "More!" the silver-haired boy cried. "More, Roderich, harder, faster, please!" His heels dug into the Austrian's back, so hard that it was almost uncomfortable. But Roderich ignored it as he started to lose himself in a building haze of pleasure.

He bent down to kiss Gilbert, but he froze halfway, throwing the albino a taunting glance. Now it was he who had the upper hand. "Look who's begging now," he managed to gasp between ragged pants and low, needy grunts. Gilbert opened his mouth as if to reply, but Roderich silenced him with his lips, tongue invading the albino's mouth to lap, to taste, to explore its every ridge. He tugged and jerked faster at the cock in his hand, and then ran his fingers over its sensitive head. Gilbert tensed and jerked at that touch. His breath was hot on Roderich's bare chest. Sweat dripped down the back of the Austrian's neck, its scent mingling with the musk of sex as they pushed each other closer to the edge. The silver-haired boy started to moan, desperate, frenzied with desire and the aching need for completion. The delicious sounds that fell from those pale lips spiked Roderich's pleasure, encouraging him to pound mercilessly into Gilbert. Close, they were both so close…

There was a _click_ in the distance, barely audible as it was buried under the sounds of panting, moans, sighs, and the wet _slap _of flesh against flesh. "Roderich? Gilbert? Are you two here? I'm-"

Roderich jerked his head up in time to catch Francis halt in his tracks in the doorway, blonde hair damp with snow and tangled from having been stuffed under a knit cap all day. His blue eyes widened. He dropped the ski poles in his hand, which clattered to the carpeted floor with a dull _thunk._ "Francis, what are you _doing_ here?" Roderich barked, his motion in and out of Gilbert grinding to a halt as he narrowed his eyes dangerously at the French boy.

"I-I-well, this is my room, too," he stammered as his cheeks flushed bright pink. But then, the expression of shock imprinted onto his face twisted into a satisfied smirk. "Can I assume you two don't hate each other as much now?" His French accent thickened as he teased the two boys.

"Whatever!" Gilbert interrupted. "Roderich, will you just _move_ already?"

"But Francis is…"

"He can watch, for all I care!" Gilbert's voice was high and desperate. He turned crimson eyes toward the French boy. "Do you _want _to watch?" he asked mischievously.

"I w-"

"No, he _can't_ watch!" Roderich said. "Francis, would you just get the fuck out of here?" Francis nodded, held both hands up defensively, backed out of the room, and shut the door behind him. Once he was gone, Roderich turned his gaze back toward Gilbert and started thrusting in and out with every ounce of force he had left after a day of skiing. The pace of his thrusts was erratic, varied, and perhaps a bit sloppy as he chased his own release. He kissed Gilbert firmly and then bit his lower lip gently as his hand slid up and down the albino's cock. Gilbert shuddered beneath him, back arching away from the mattress. "Roderich, _Roderich!_" he yelled, his voice high and breathy and passionate, as he came into the Austrian's hand. Hearing the silver-haired boy call his name with such passionate abandonment was more than enough to drive Roderich into his own climax. He came hard inside of Gilbert and clung to the body beneath him as they rode out the last waves of orgasm together. When the blinding feeling of release had subsided, Roderich flopped down next to Gilbert and leaned in for a soft, exhausted kiss that was so different from the rough, lusty kisses they'd shared moments ago.

"_Mein Gott,_" Gilbert murmured between heavy pants and gasps for air.

Beyond the point of forming coherent sentences, Roderich chuckled wearily and trailed his fingers along the inside of Gilbert's wrist. They lay there like that for several long moments, breathless, gazing into each other's eyes. Gilbert reached out and brushed a few sweat-soaked strands of hair away from Roderich's forehead. The Austrian couldn't help but smile.

But it slowly dawned upon him that he had just had sex with the boy he couldn't stand, the boy who irritated him for the entirety of the ski club's weekly meetings, the boy he'd convinced himself he'd never like. Feeling hot and sticky, Roderich stood without further warning. "I think I need a shower before dinner," he announced and headed toward the restroom.

Gilbert got up and started to follow Roderich. "I could use a shower, too," he said with a grin.

"Well, you'll get one after I get out," Roderich replied. "Gilbert, don't push your luck."

* * *

In about two hours, the ski club met in the dining hall on the first floor of the hotel for dinner. Roderich waked silently next to Gilbert as they headed to meet Francis and Antonio, who were already downstairs, chatting with Alfred and other club members. Both boys were exhausted, sore, and eager for a big meal. Gilbert ran a hand through silvery hair that was still damp from the shower. Though he would never say it out loud, Roderich thought that Gilbert looked almost annoyingly attractive in his chunky cream-colored cable knit sweater, faded jeans, and black Converse Chuck Taylors. The Austrian wondered what this meant for the two of them. They weren't _together_ now, were they? They'd just had an afternoon of random sex, and that was it, right? Roderich realized that he had started to like the German boy just a little bit. He aimed purple eyes at Gilbert, studying the other boy's expression, trying to read it. Gilbert's face was intense and unmoving, the corners of his mouth turned slightly downward. But there was a glimmer of uncertainty in those crimson eyes. Roderich noticed that those eyes always seemed to betray the emotions Gilbert's face was able to hide. Did Gilbert like him back – and if he did, was that a good thing, or was it a disaster waiting to happen?

Eager to rid his mind of all those thoughts, Roderich found Francis and Antonio seated at a large round table next to Alfred. Both of Gilbert's friends smirked as he and Roderich settled into their seats. "Have a fun afternoon, you two?" Antonio asked suggestively. _Shit!_ Francis must have told him what he'd seen the two of them doing. Of course he had. Those three seemed to tell each other everything.

"It was all right, I suppose," Roderich answered coolly. Gilbert opened his mouth as if to speak, but shook his head and remained silent instead. He looked a little hurt.

"How was the skiing, bros?" Alfred said cheerfully. He seemed oblivious to the awkward tension occurring between the other four. "How'd you like that fresh pow-pow?"

Roderich wrinkled his nose at the way Alfred had said "pow-pow" rather than "powder." He wondered if it was a snowboarding thing. "It was good," Roderich said.

"Yeah. It was great, real great," Gilbert responded petulantly.

Alfred's face fell. "Oh…" he said, as though he had finally sensed that something wasn't quite right.

But before he had the chance to say anything else, a soft voice called, "Hey, Alfred!" The blonde twisted halfway around in his seat and waved to Ivan Braginsky, who stood near the table clutching his plate of food. Though Ivan had joined the ski club a year ago, Roderich had barely spoken to him. The Russian always seemed so quiet and lost in his own thoughts.

"Hey, babe," Alfred said casually. He turned back to the four of them. "Sorry, guys, but I'm gonna go sit with my Russky, 'kay?"

Everyone bid him farewell. Roderich glanced at Gilbert, who was scowling with his arms folded over his chest. He'd barely touched his food. Wordlessly, Roderich reached under the table and placed a hand on the other boy's thigh. Gilbert's expression shifted instantly. He smiled at Roderich, uncrossed his arms, and dug into his dinner.

* * *

That night, Francis, Antonio, Gilbert, and Roderich all decided to go to bed early so they could be rested for a second day of skiing. When Roderich emerged from the restroom, dressed and ready for bed, Francis raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you two going to sleep in the same bed tonight? I mean, because you already had se-"

"Francis!" Roderich interrupted sharply. He turned to glance at Gilbert, who gave him a sheepish smile. The Austrian supposed it wouldn't be so awkward to sleep next to Gilbert now that he'd slept _with_ him. "Why not?" he said with a shrug, and climbed wearily into bed. The silver-haired boy slid in behind Roderich and wrapped both arms around him. Roderich froze, his body rigid in Gilbert's arms, as he felt warm breath on the back of his neck. But he didn't push Gilbert away or resist. He wasn't used to lying in bed in someone's arms without sex or stipulations, but he had to admit, it kind of felt good. He relaxed into Gilbert's arms and heard the other boy sigh happily. With the curves of their bodies fitting together perfectly, Roderich started to drift off into sleep.

* * *

**First of all, I'm sorry it took me so long to finish Part 2! School and writer's block and other stuff happened.**

**Second of all…DanieSora, if you're reading this, the little bit of RusAme I threw in there is for you!**

**Lastly, as always, thanks for reading and reviews are love :) Stay tuned for the conclusion of this threeshot!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**- Day 3 –**_

When Roderich awoke to the sound of his alarm, he was wrapped in the most pleasant warmth imaginable, and he did not want to get out of bed. He found himself still nestled in Gilbert's arms. He realized he didn't want the other boy to let go. But they all had to get dressed and eat breakfast in order to catch the bus on time that morning, so Roderich slipped reluctantly out of bed. One of Gilbert's eyelids cracked open, revealing a narrow slit of crimson through which he regarded the Austrian. "Morning," he said to Roderich as he sat up, blinked, and rubbed his eyes.

"So you're actually going to get up on time today, are you?" Roderich said.

"Sure," Gilbert said with a shrug. He stood and tentatively put weight on his injured ankle. His tensed face relaxed, and he smiled at Roderich. "I think I'll have no problem skiing today," he said.

"Good, glad to hear it."

Roderich turned and started to walk toward the restroom so that he could get dressed. Halfway there, Gilbert called to him, "Thank you for yesterday, Roderich." He paused and added in a lower voice, "For…for everything."

The Austrian couldn't help but smile at Gilbert, who was attractive even in rumpled pajamas, even with his silvery hair disheveled and sticking up in random places. God, _why_ did he have to be so damn attractive? "You're welcome," he said.

* * *

Once they had arrived back at the mountain, Roderich stepped into the bindings of his skis and started to head toward the ski lift alone, just as he had yesterday. Gilbert caught up with him and tugged at his arm. "C'mon, Roddy, come ski with us!" he chirped, lips parted in an eager grin. When Roderich turned to gaze back into crimson eyes, the albino added quickly, "Don't be, you know…such a priss who thinks he's…so much better than the rest of us or something. Are we unworthy to ski with you or something?"

"Fine," the Austrian conceded, though he was secretly happy that Gilbert wanted to spend time with him. He couldn't explain why. He followed Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio toward the gondola that would take them straight to the black-diamond trails. He knew he was capable of skiing trails that difficult, but he always preferred to warm up with something easier first. Today, however, he boarded the gondola without saying anything to the other three boys. _This will be good for you,_ he told himself. _Maybe you _should _loosen up every once in a while and stop worrying like your life is just one big piano recital waiting to go wrong._

They immediately headed toward a trail with moguls – toward the same snowy domes that had made Gilbert fall on his ankle the previous day. Roderich followed wordlessly, knowing it was useless to protest at this point. Gilbert skied a little more conservatively today, turning around each dome with careful precision. Roderich realized in that moment that the silver-haired boy was actually a good skier who clearly knew what he was doing, who clearly had a firm handle on proper skiing technique. He simply chose to ignore that technique when he felt that it wasn't entertaining enough to ski carefully. Soon, the Austrian felt his reservations slip away. He no longer thought about his private piano lesson on Wednesday, which he never felt as though he was prepared for. He no longer thought about how well he had done on that music theory exam. At last, he let himself fully enjoy skiing, talking, and laughing with Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio, though Gilbert seemed a bit quieter than usual. Roderich did not even think about what had happened between him and Gilbert the previous day.

At lunch, Gilbert teased him a bit less than he normally did. Antonio and Francis, however, were just as talkative as ever. Francis went on about how girls who skied were different to date than girls who were snowboarders, and how both types of girls were different from the gymnasts and the dancers. Antonio mentioned an Italian boy by the name of Lovino whom he'd had a crush on for a while. Lovino didn't ski, and Antonio kept trying to convince the Italian to come along with him so he could teach him, but Lovino always said no. At one point, Gilbert rolled up the little paper his straw had come in and threw it at Roderich. The albino's aim was surprisingly good. The little ball of paper bounced right off the Austrian's glasses and landed in his food. Roderich sighed and rolled his eyes, but decided not to scold Gilbert, because something about him seemed…different today. He seemed hesitant. Unsure of himself.

They continued skiing into the afternoon. At around 3:00, Francis and Antonio waved the other two boys toward the terrain park, where there were all sorts of obstacles they could use to do tricks. "I…I don't know if I should," Gilbert said quietly. "I don't want to hurt my ankle even more if I land funny or something." He glanced at the other three, eyes pausing on each of them. "But you guys go on. I'll just go back to the lodge and…I don't know, sit for a while. My ankle's kinda starting to hurt anyway."

"No, Gilbert, you don't need to be alone!" Roderich said automatically. "I'll go with you."

"Roderich, you know you don't have to…"

"Yes, but I want to," the Austrian replied firmly. "Come on, let's go sit for a while."

Gilbert nodded, and the two of them skied to the bottom of the mountain while Antonio and Francis practiced insane tricks at the terrain park. Out of the corner of his eye, Roderich saw Antonio fly into the air off a box jump, land crookedly, and fall over backwards. _Maybe it's a good thing we quit when we did,_ he thought. When they had reached the bottom, Gilbert said, "Hey, you want to get something to eat? Once we get on the bus, it'll be a few hours before we stop for dinner."

"Sure, why not?" Roderich said.

The silver-haired boy tilted his head toward a little food stand that sat a few yards away from the steps that led down to the ski lodge. "They got, like…sugar waffles or something like that over there."

Roderich chuckled dryly. "Waffles? My ex's current girlfriend loves waffles. She makes them all the time."

Gilbert arched a pale eyebrow. "Oh, so your ex, he's bisexual, is he?" he said with a smirk as he nudged Roderich in the side with his elbow.

"Apparently, _she_ is bisexual," Roderich corrected as he followed Gilbert to the little stand.

"Oh…" Gilbert said as his face fell a little. "But you do…date men, don't you?"

"Of course! You should know that. But why do you a-"

"No reason!" Gilbert interrupted. "One of those waffle-things. Oh, with chocolate, please," he said to the woman behind the counter.

They ordered their sugar waffles and leaned against a nearby railing to eat them. For a moment, neither of the two spoke to each other. Gilbert snuck a few glances at Roderich, and the Austrian pretended not to notice. But then after a few minutes of silence, Gilbert cleared his throat a little. "Um, Roderich…" he started to say.

"Yes?"

Gilbert stared at the ground. "Ah, never mind," he mumbled.

Roderich reached out with his free hand and touched Gilbert's arm lightly. "You can tell me anything, Gil. It's okay."

"But…I don't know what you'll think of me if I do," Gilbert said.

"I'm sure I won't think badly of you," Roderich said. "It's not like we exactly get along that well as it is!" He chuckled lightly, but Gilbert did not smile or laugh with him.

The silver-haired boy sighed, took one last bite of his waffle, and chewed it slowly and thoughtfully without looking at Roderich. "Well, you know, I kind of think…you're…kind of…awesome," he replied quietly, pausing after every few words. "But not as awesome as me, of course."

Flattered yet confused, Roderich said, "What are you…what do you mean, Gilbert?"

"Damn it, Roderich! Why do you have to fucking go and make this harder than it already is?" Gilbert said brusquely. "I, ah…" He hesitated and started playing with his ski poles, passing them back and forth from hand to hand.

Suddenly, Roderich knew just what Gilbert was trying to say. Gilbert had a _crush_ on him. He didn't know why, or for how long, but he wasn't about to ask. "Oh…" Roderich said quietly, giving the other boy a little nod.

"And I thought that after yesterday, maybe…"

Roderich didn't allow Gilbert to finish his sentence. He leaned forward and kissed the German boy. The contact of their lips felt so different than it had the previous day. The way Gilbert pressed back into the kiss was soft and a little tentative. Roderich's tongue slipped past the other boy's pale lips and tasted cinnamon, sugar, and chocolate as it roamed and explored his mouth. The tips of their tongues barely touched. Gilbert put an arm around Roderich's neck and slid his fingers through the Austrian's hair, which poked out from the bottom of the winter hat he wore. When they pulled apart and lingered with their faces only an inch or two apart, Gilbert exhaled shakily. Roderich couldn't tell if the other boy felt nervous, or relieved, or both. "So, what does…" Gilbert said.

"How about we go out to dinner sometime once we get back to campus?" Roderich said without thinking.

"I'd like that," Gilbert replied, smiling for the first time since they'd reached the bottom of the mountain. The albino's eyes traveled to the crumpled, chocolate-smeared wrappers they held balled up in their hands. He laughed, and Roderich smiled in spite of himself. "Hey Specs, since we finished our waffles, are we just gonna keep standing here like idiots, or are we actually gonna go inside now?"

Roderich laughed, too, and rolled his eyes. _There_ was the Gilbert he knew. The two made their way down the steps and into the ski lodge. They found a pair of chairs in front of the fireplace and settled into them to rest for an hour before the coach bus would come to take them back to campus. "Hey, Roddy, you got a little…" Gilbert said and tried to stop himself from giggling. Before Roderich could question him, Gilbert leaned forward and licked a lingering drop of chocolate off the corner of the Austrian's mouth, and then kissed him. When he pulled back, he wore a satisfied smirk. The rest of the hour passed in relative silence. At some point, Gilbert reached over and took Roderich's hand. Roderich flinched at the sudden contact, but he didn't pull away.

When the coach bus arrived, the two shuffled out of the hotel lobby, collected their skis from outside, made their way over, and handed their skis to the bus driver to be loaded into the storage space below the bus. They were one of the first people to climb onto the bus, as almost everyone else in the ski club had been skiing or snowboarding up until almost the very last possible moment. Roderich flopped down into a seat near the back of the bus and looked up at Gilbert, who stood in the aisle and glanced at the Austrian with questions hovering in his eyes. Roderich patted the seat next to him and Gilbert sat, shifting until he was comfortable.

Antonio and Francis arrived shortly thereafter. They sat across the aisle from Gilbert and Roderich, throwing the two strange glances as they got settled. "So…are you two _together_ now?" Francis said, eyeing the pair eagerly.

"Maybe," Roderich said. Gilbert bit his lip, looking a little hurt, like a puppy that had just been scolded. "Hey, Gil, we should at least go on a few dates before we make it official, right?" he added.

Gilbert's face positively lit up. "Yeah! Why not?"

Antonio chuckled. "Sex _before_ dating? Once again, Roderich, you have the tendency to do things backwards," he said.

"Antonio! Don't you dare!" Roderich snapped. "You're walking on a very thin line right now." He knew _exactly_ what the Spaniard was talking about. He and Antonio had slept together before dating, as well. But he had been drunk and weak at the time, and it was a decision he'd come to regret. That was a topic he didn't want discussed around Gilbert – at least not until he and the German boy had been together for a while. For some reason, he thought Gilbert might feel hurt or jealous if he knew he and Antonio had actually dated for a while.

The Spaniard held up his hands defensively. "No worries, _amigo_," he said good-naturedly, before turning in his seat to talk to Francis.

Much to Roderich's relief, Gilbert didn't ask about what Antonio had said. That was a discussion for much later. Once all the ski club members had boarded the bus, and attendance had been taken, the engine roared to life, pulled out of the resort parking lot, and turned toward campus. In a few hours, after the bus had stopped at a McDonalds so that everyone could eat dinner, Gilbert put an arm around Roderich's waist, scooted in close, rested his head on the Austrian's shoulder, and fell asleep. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Roderich felt strangely at peace. He hadn't had a real, lasting relationship in a while, and maybe it was time he broke that trend. It was strange and sweetly ironic that this relationship would be with Gilbert Beilschmidt, the boy he never thought he'd be able to tolerate, much less like as more than a friend. But over the last three days, he _had_ seen a side of Gilbert he didn't know existed. He saw that the German boy could be quiet, a little insecure, and maybe even…sweet. And the fact that Gilbert had a crush on him still baffled him. How was it that Roderich hadn't known? Had the other boy simply been that good at hiding it? Or had Roderich been too stupid to notice?

Roderich couldn't answer those questions, but he felt that he didn't need to. That was in the past. He leaned back against Gilbert and let his eyelids slide shut as snow once again started to swirl through the darkening sky.

* * *

**So…I love how this fic was supposed to be a cute little oneshot that turned into a monster of a threeshot. And I realized the chapter length was somewhat unbalanced, with about 75% of the length in Chapter 2. But oh well!**

**If you're also reading Remember the Music, you can expect an update relatively shortly! If not, you should be! *shameless self promotion***

**Anyway, the end! As always, thanks for reading, and reviews are love :)**


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